Despite this being the tail-end of 2014, there are a lot of things that our species has yet to accomplish: we can send a message from one end of the world to the other in seconds, yet we still have masses of people who starve to death every day…we can send a probe into deep space, yet can’t figure out the basic need for racial equality…anyone, anywhere, now has the opportunity to have their personal thoughts, artwork, opinions and beliefs be seen by a world-wide audience, yet we manage to marginalize women nearly to the point of invisibility. Never before have we been so attuned to the small details, yet so completely ignorant of the big picture…so close to the finish line and yet so very, very far away.

In a World…(2013), the extraordinary feature-length directorial debut of indie writer/actor extraordinaire Lake Bell, probably won’t create any massive kind of sea-change in “the battle of the sexes,” which probably says more about our inherent resistance to common sense than anything else. It’s too bad, really, because In a World…is just the kind of film that could start a bigger dialogue, if given a wide enough audience. A hilarious, sharply written, character-driven comedy that makes its points in the most reasonable way possible and comes to the same conclusion that all of us should have long ago, In a World… politely explains just how fundamentally stupid sexism is and the unfortunate ways in which both men and women keep falling into the same old traps. The solution, as simple as it is, might just shock the world: why not try treating everyone like equals and see what happens?

Carol (Lake Bell) is a voice coach whose main job seems to be helping celebrities like Eva Longoria “not sound like a retarded pirate” for various projects. Voice-work comes naturally to Carol: her father, Sam (Fred Melamed), an impossibly egotistical, massively obnoxious voice-over “superstar,” is about to receive a lifetime achievement award after long being regarded as one of the luminaries in this particular entertainment niche, second only to the legendary Don Lafontaine. The spectre of Lafontaine, who made famous the titular “In a world…” film trailer line so famous, hangs over the cast of characters like a lead weight: he’s the pinnacle that they all aspire to, the ultimate source of envy for jerks like Sam and his protegé, the equally obnoxious Gustav (Ken Merino).

With a new epic film series on the horizon (The Amazon Games, obviously modeled after The Hunger Games), the series’ producers decide that they want an equally epic teaser trailer: for the first time in ages, they decide to use the iconic “In a world…” line and they’re going to need the perfect person to pull it off. Turns out that Carol thinks she’s that person but there’s a hitch: women are completely marginalized as far as cinematic voice-over work goes. Not only don’t any of Carol’s peers, such as Gustav, take her seriously but her own father even disparages her attempts to break into the industry, telling her to stick to her “lowly” voice coaching work. Frustrated, Carol decides to flip off the naysayers and auditions for the trailer…and handily scores the gig! Gustav is furious, unable to handle the news that he lost a plum gig to a woman (even though he doesn’t know it was Carol who “scooped” him) but Sam takes it one step further: he demands to be considered for the gig, even though his daughter has been all-but handed the job already. Since he still pulls weight in the industry, Sam forces the producers to audition the applicants, including Carol and Gustav.

The drama involving the voice-over work is contrasted with a subplot involving Carol’s sister, Dani (Michaela Watkins), her neebishy husband, Moe (Rob Corddry) and the hunky director of The Amazon Games, Terry (Jason O’Mara): they all get thrown into the soup after Carol enlists Dani’s help with some voice-over research (Terry has the dreamiest Irish brogue, dontcha know?) and Dani and Terry end up spending an undue amount of time together. Throw in a romantic triangle involving Carol, Gustav and Carol’s endlessly faithful agent, Louis (Demitri Martin), and you have a recipe for some practically Shakespearian machinations involving love, betrayal, acceptance and the importance of standing up for yourself, regardless of what others think.

As an actor, Lake Bell is known for quirky character performances in indie films like A Good Old Fashioned Orgy (2011) and Black Rock (2012), as well as roles in bigger-budget, mainstream fare like What Happens in Vegas (2008), It’s Complicated (2009) and No Strings Attached (2011). There’s an odd quality to Bell’s performances that marks her as a singularly unique performer: there always seems to be something slightly off about her, something distinctly “out of synch” with whatever she’s appearing in, similar to any of Andy Kaufmann’s various “legit” acting performances. Bell was also part of Rob Corddry’s exceptional Children’s Hospital series, which saw her sharing the small screen with In a World…co-stars Corddry, Ken Marino and Nick Offerman, making her directorial debut a bit of a Children’s Hospital reunion, in a way.

In a World…works on a number of levels: it’s an above-average comedy, thanks to a pretty unbeatable ensemble cast composed almost entirely of comedians (the cast-list reads like a virtual “who’s who” of modern comics); it’s a nicely realized examination of a particularly difficult father-daughter relationship, complete with the requisite “young stepmother” to provide equal comedy grist; it’s a fascinating look into the world of voice-over acting, a subset of the film industry that many casual audiences probably have as little experience with as possible; and last, but certainly not least, it’s a subtle and cutting look at the modern face of sexism and the glass ceilings that still manage to keep women down, despite any number of advances made since the “bad old days.” In a World…manages to be all these things at once, maintaining a delicate balancing act that marks Bell as a formidable talent: much more experienced filmmakers would have dropped at least half of these balls…Bell juggles them with an ease that’s almost supernatural.

One of the most impressive aspects of Lake’s debut is how it’s able to engage on so many levels without ever losing sight of the inherent absurdity of these situations. Carol is exasperated and frustrated by the sexism of her chosen profession but she never gives up or gives in to anger: she plows through, resolutely, determined to prove her worth in the most old-fashioned way possible…by kicking complete ass at the job. For a modern society that prizes innovators and “boot-strap-warriors,” Carol is a bit of a patron saint: she sees something that she wants, ignores the naysayers, busts her ass and goes for it. The whole sexist system is still in place, mind you: the film doesn’t engage in needless feel-good aphorisms any more than it traffics in “revenge fantasies,” ala Horrible Bosses (2011) and its ilk. Rather, Carol’s stubborn refusal to give in and her steadfast desire to be heard makes her something of an Arctic icebreaker, charges ahead despite the endless resistance and pushback she experiences.

Most impressively, In a World…marks Bell’s full-length writing debut: the script is so tight, full of such great dialogue and scenarios that it’s hard to believe she doesn’t have more full-lengths under her belt. I previously called In a World…”Shakespearian” and it’s a comparison I’ll stand by: there’s something about the intricate, brilliant interactions between the various characters that instantly reminiscent of the Bard. By the end, Bell has managed to tie the various threads together in some truly satisfying ways, right up to the fist-raising conclusion that shows how Carol keeps kicking in the door to the boys’ club, finding ways to help women fight the system and find their own voices.

In a World…is that most amazing of constructions, in the end, a “message” film that succeeds as pure entertainment without ever losing sight of the big picture. Bell has lots of things to say here and never hedges her bets but it’s also plainly clear that she wants us to have a good time: there’s no reason that we can’t dance at the revolution, as long as we remember why we’re there. When a film makes you laugh out loud and think, at the same time, well…that’s something pretty special, no two ways about it. Here’s to hoping that In a World…marks the beginning of a brilliant, long directorial career for Bell: the world still has a helluva long way to go but the darkness looks like it’s getting brighter all the time.

At one point in Declan Lowney’s outrageously funny Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa (2013), blowhard, egomaniacal radio DJ Alan Partridge (Steve Coogan) ends up locking himself out of the very hostage situation that he’s been sent in to mediate. Determined to make it back inside the studio, Alan attempts to climb in through a nearby window which, of course, doesn’t go quite as planned: the idiot ends up hanging upside-down, sans pants and underwear (but with shirt surprisingly intact). After winnowing his way free, Alan is suddenly confronted by a heavily armed member of the SWAT team, who demands that he raise his hands. The look on Coogan’s face as he dejectedly, but resolutely, raises his hands is proof positive that the British actor is one of the finest comedians in the business, quite possibly this generation’s Peter Sellers.

Like Sellers, Coogan is a gifted chameleon, a mimic that can effortlessly slip into any character and provide it with its own individual tics and quirks, pulling mannerisms out of a black bag in the same way that Lon Chaney might have removed makeup accessories. Sellers had a particular way with facial gestures…an artfully raised eyebrow here, a sly smile there…that is readily apparent with Coogan: were he reduced simply to gestures, it’s quite possible that Coogan would remain just as effective and funny. Also like Sellers, Coogan can vacilate between drama and comedy: Coogan’s recent turn in the Oscar-nominated Philomena (2013) proved that quite handily. In the right vehicle, he’s pretty much unstoppable: Alan Partridge is just such a vehicle and, quite possibly, the funniest film I saw in the past eight months.

I will admit to coming into the film pretty blind: I knew nothing about the actual character of Alan Partridge, although I suspected that Alpha Papa wasn’t his first spin around the block. Turns out that Coogan created Partridge for a radio show, which then spawned TV appearances and the film we see before us. Suffice to say that prior knowledge of the character is not necessary to appreciate the current big-screen adaptation, although I’m sure it enriches the experience.

We’re introduced to our obnoxious, yet strangely loveable, protagonist through his job at a small Norfolk radio station. Alan Partridge is a DJ and the kind of fellow for whom the term “insufferable” was coined: he’s a completely self-absorbed ass, the kind of person who interrupts singing along with his favorite song on the radio to correct another driver. He’s vain, a habitual liar (Alan says that he’s researching “ospreys” on the internet but the reflection in his eyeglasses suggests otherwise) and egotistical asshole who thinks absolutely nothing about throwing someone else under the proverbial bus, be they his personal assistant, Lynn (Felicity Montagu) or his put-upon fellow DJ, Pat (Colm Meaney).

Turns out that Pat is feeling pretty marginalized, as of late, and getting unceremoniously sacked by the new management has led him to take rather drastic action: arming himself with a shotgun, Pat takes the station’s crew hostage, including the new manager, Jason (Nigel Lindsay) and Alan’s beleaguered on-air “sidekick, Simon (Tim Key). He doesn’t get Alan, however, because the “veteran on-air personality” ran for the hills at the first sign of trouble, “comandeering” a surprised motorist’s car in order to drive to the next-door police station. Fate’s not done with Alan just yet, however, as it turns out that Pat will only deal with one person in the entire world: his good “buddy” Alan. Oblivious to the fact that Alan actually sold him up the river to begin with, Pat feels that only another member of the old school will truly see his perspective on the situation. The police agree and send our man Alan back into the fray, armed with a bullet-proof jacket, one whopper of a lie and a complete and total allergy to common sense. It’s up to Alan to defuse the situation, save the lives of the hostages and deliver Pat to the authorities. In other words: they’re all doomed.

One of the most important aspects of a comedy is the film’s actual ability to produce genuine laughs. Over the years, I’ve become more and more used to watching comedies that function more as “clever” than genuinely “funny.” There’s a big difference: clever films might be witty, thought-provoking and apt to produce the odd chuckle here or there but they are not, by and large, the factory whereby big laughs are produced. An actually funny film, however, will produce uncontrollable bursts of laughter: this is an almost primal, ferocious experience. Laughing so hard that you ache is a rare but altogether intense feeling. If there is a short-list for the the films that have made me laugh the hardest over the years, Alan Partridge would certainly deserve a prime spot.

Quite simply, Alpha Papa is an outrageously funny film. The film is a near non-stop barrage of everything from razor-sharp dialogue and one-liners to utterly absurd situational comedy (a dream sequence that involves Coogan as SWAT team members Jason Bourne, Jason Statham and Jason of the Argonauts is a complete classic), physical comedy and blink-and-you-miss-’em visual gags. There’s a throwaway bit, towards the end, where Alan shoots a BB gun and ends up hitting a poster of JFK dead between the eyes: “Not again!” he wails, racing away, and I couldn’t help but feel that Mel Brooks couldn’t do it any better. From “forensic trousers” to “agenda benders” and the “hands-free head holster” (just what any busy radio DJ/hostage-taker needs for multi-tasking), Alpha Papa is a constantly inventive cornucopia of comedy, a “scattergun” approach to the form that involves an astoundingly high ratio of hits to misses. Truth be told, I’m hard-pressed to recall much of the humor that didn’t work for me, although this probably has at least something to do with my particular sensibilities. I know that it definitely has a lot to do with star/creator Coogan.

Coogan is a complete marvel as Alan, a character that manages to not only say and do the worst possible thing in any given situation but manages to do so with such a complete zeal that his dedication to everything (not least of all, himself) is never in doubt. Alan may be a liar, a cheat and an all-around horrible person but, through some miracle, Coogan manages to make him not only tolerable but likeable. You may never trust Alan with your life or your reputation but there’s just something about him that makes you forgive his often despicable acts, time and time again. It’s a similar enigma as with The Office’s Michael Scott but magnified ten fold: Alan Partridge will never have Michael’s misguided altruism because he’s too self-absorbed to even notice other humans. Despite this complete narcissism (at one point, Alan complains that everyone views him as some sort of “Christ 2.0” and you get the idea that he genuinely believes this), Alan still has the ability to step up when necessary and do the right thing, even if it doesn’t always benefit him.

While Coogan is fantastic as Alan (possibly a career-best performance), he’s got a more than capable ensemble backing him up. Veteran actor Colm Meaney has always been a great performer but his turn as Pat Farrell certainly belongs in his personal Hall of Fame. By turns proud, wounded and pissed off, Pat is a complex character, as far from a plot device or a MacGuffin as it gets. There is some genuine poignancy to the scene where Pat and Alan discuss their boyhood dreams and a rousing bit of wish-fulfillment when the pair hit the road in the “broadcasting bus” to bring the truth to the common man. This may be Alan’s show but Pat is a vital component and Meaney’s performance is a great counter-balance to Coogan’s manic energy.

Great performances abound, however: Nigel Lindsay brings the proper amount of middle-management sleaze to his portrayal of station head Jason, Monica Dolan is hilariously “clingy” as Alan’s on-again/off-again fling Angela and Anna Maxwell Martin is so starched that she practically creaks as Janet Whitehead, head of the SWAT task-force. Special mention must go to Felicity Montagu as Alan’s personal assistant, however. Lynn is a remarkable character, by turns slavishly devoted to Alan’s personal and career-wellbeing, at other times as easily distracted by the trappings of “fame” as a bird is to shiny objects. Montagu is a riot and nearly steals all of her scenes, no small feat when working so closely with Coogan.

I could go on and on about Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa but the bottom-line is pretty simple: the film is an absolute and complete gem. It’s uproariously funny, full of heart, deeply incisive, stuffed to bursting with interesting characters and anchored by a phenomenal lead performance via the indomitable Steve Coogan. While there is no such thing as a universal comedy, I’m hard-pressed to think that anyone couldn’t find something to laugh at in Alpha Papa. It may be a little early to declare a film from 2013 as a “classic” but I’m going to go out on a limb here: Alpha Papa is just about as classic as it gets.

Every group has one, whether they want to admit it or not: that hyperactive, obnoxious, vulgar “life of the party” who always manages to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing and drag everyone down with them. These are the kind of people who get their friends thrown out of bars for starting fights with karaoke machines, punch police horses in the face and wear cargo shorts to fancy cocktail parties. They’ll be all too happy to blab your innermost secrets to the nearest available ears and have the special ability to attract more attention while out in public than firecrackers in a bubble-wrap factory. These people are embarrassing, crude, rude, loud-mouthed jerks and, more often than not, are supremely pleased by this: there’s no notion of changing these folks because they’re quite happy as they are, thank you. Every group has a name for these “special” individuals, these life-long friends that will always have your back, seemingly so they can concoct new ways to mortify you. We’ve all known people like this and, just perhaps, we’ve even been people like this. In the case of Rob Pearlstein’s uproarious new film, Someone Marry Barry (2014), this particular “someone” is named Barry Burke and, boy…is Barry really something!

Kurt (Thomas Middleditch), Desmond (Damon Wayans Jr.) and Rafe (Hayes MacArthur) are lifelong best friends with a bit of a problem: namely, Barry (Tyler Labine), the fourth member of their group. Kurt is trying to take his fractured relationship with longtime on-again/off-again girlfriend Camille (Frances Shaw) to the next level, Desmond is trying to find ways to balance his crushing work-load with spending more time with his neglected wife, Rachel (Amanda Lund) and Rafe is trying to balance the trials of modern dating with being a single father to precocious tyke J.T. (Wyatt Oleff). On their own, any of these tasks would be full-time jobs: throw in the frequently outrageous antics of best friend Barry, however, and things become that much more intolerable. After a particular humiliating experience at the funeral for Rafe’s father, during which Barry manages to not only reveal the deceased’s affairs in front of the assembled mourners but also manages to work in references to Kurt’s previous experience in an adult theater (Kurt the Squirt), the friends decide that something must be done with their boorish best friend. Since bumping him off is out of the question (despite Kurt’s continued protests), the friends decide to do the next best thing (in their minds, at least) and get Barry married off. If Barry has someone to keep him in line, like Desmond and Kurt do, they reason, he won’t be able to get them all into as much trouble. If wishes were horses, of course, we’d all ride away. In this case, Kurt, Rafe and Desmond might be wise to wait before investing in that stable.

Throwing themselves headfirst into the task, the trio try everything they can to help Barry find true love, including a disastrous speed dating session (turns out Barry is actually harder to take in small doses, fancy that) and an attempt to purchase a mail-order bride that could best be described as “potentially terrifying.” Just when all else fails, however, true love appears to rear its bizarre head in the form of one Melanie Miller (Lucy Punch). Mel, for lack of a better descriptor, is a female Barry: we first meet here in the middle of a date with the unlucky Ben (Ed Helms) which involves her graphic description of her yeast infection (her “beast inspection”), as well as the lovely declaration that she needs to take a shit. Turns out that Barry is on an equally successful date at the same restaurant and ends up sharing a cab with Mel after their respective dates run for cover (with each other, ironically enough). Barry and Mel hit it off like penguins and polar bears, at first, with each person trying to one-up the other in terms of sheer unpleasant foulness. In short order, however, a grudging respect has been forged: neither Barry nor Mel has ever met anyone quite like the other person. It’s almost like they were made for each other…although, if not for each other than, quite frankly, for whom?

In no time at all, sparks are flying and Barry and Mel seem to be head over heels for each other. Seeking to bring all of the friends together, as it were, the group plans a nice weekend away at the cabin: what should be a perfect opportunity for Kurt, Camille, Desmond, Rachel and Rafe to meet their “savior” for the first time devolves into abject horror once the group realizes that Mel is just a female Barry. After a car-trip filled with tag-team farting, annoying techno music and irritating laughing, the group is just about ready to pull their hair out. Is putting up with another Barry worth the price of preserving their childhood friendship? Should they all tell Barry how annoying Melanie is? Just what, exactly, is true love and does everyone have the right to experience it…including the truly irritating? At what point do friends need to sever ties and go their own ways…and does the needs of the group ever outweight an individual’s desire to be happy?

There are a few things that I ask of comedies but the main thing is pretty basic: I ask that they be funny. Comedies can be subtle, provoking a few chuckles and some smiles, or they can be explosively hilarious, prompting belly laughs and doubling-over on the floor. While either approach is valid, they have to at least broach the subject in order to get me on board. How does Someone Marry Barry stack up in this regard? Explosively. Quite frankly, Pearlstein’s film is one of the absolutely funniest I’ve seen in quite some time: I started laughing early on in the film and ended up laughing all the way through. Without putting too fine a point on it, Someone Marry Barry is a pretty great film but the humor is one of its strongest attributes. Pearlstein’s script is exceptionally sharp, full of tons of great dialogue, vulgar but hilarious situations and outrageous but sympathetic character development.

Actually caring about the characters in a film like this is paramount to its success and Pearlstein knocks it completely out of the park in that regard. Not only are the characters in the film funny, on their own, but they work together amazingly well as an ensemble. I actually felt like Kurt, Rafe, Desmond and Barry were life-long friends, with all of the baggage that such relationships require. Since the friendships felt justified and real, it was a lot easier to take Barry’s outrageous behaviour in stride: watching the film, I would often think back to my own churlish actions and how my friends reacted, which weren’t so far off the mark. The acting in the film is really top-notch: Damon Wayans Jr. is a dependably put-upon performer and Silicon Valley’s Middleditch brings just the right amount of pathetic “puppy dog”-ness to his portrayal of Kurt (his ultimate meltdown with Camille is one of the highlights of the film).

While the acting is superb across the board, especially from the principal actors, Someone Marry Barry ends up being a complete tour de force for Tyler Labine and Lucy Punch. I’ve always really enjoyed Labine as an actor: in fact, he’s one of those guys, like Ray Wise or Ron Perlman, that will draw me straight to a project, regardless of what I know (or don’t know) about said film. In the case of Someone Marry Barry, his prominent place on the box art was 100% responsible for my choosing the film in the first place and, as usual with Labine, I wasn’t disappointed. Quite simply, Labine is one of the very finest comedic actors in the business right now and is perilously close to approaching “living treasure” status: if you don’t automatically watch all of his films, correct that mistake immediately. While I really can’t praise Labine enough, however, I’d be a complete fool to deny Punch any of her own glory in the film. Punch is a vibrant, vulgar, loud-mouthed, brash, completely obnoxious, thoroughly alive and absolutely indispensable character. She’s one of the most joyous, realistic female characters I’ve ever seen portrayed and is absolutely the match for any bloke in the house. Were there a belching contest involved, I’d put my coins on Punch’s Melanie. First person to help out a friend in need? I’m more than willing to wager Melanie would be there, too. Far from being just “one of the guys,” Punch’s Mel is just “a person” who happens to be female: as she reminds us (frequently) throughout the film, women shit, swear, fuck, pick their noses, make mistakes and act like total assholes…just like guys.

While the film functions superbly as a buddy-comedy focused on male relationships (I hesitate to use the “bro-mance” tag but if the slipper fits…), the messy, wonderful romance between Mel and Barry serves as its big, beating heart. While Barry and Mel might be fairly awful people, in many ways, they’re perfect for each other and there’s something truly magical (and kind of old-fashioned, which ends up suiting the film well) about watching these two soulmates find each other. It’s to the film’s immense credit that despite the endless jokes about bathroom habits, sexual functions and inventive swearing (Barry and Mel bond over their mutual use of the portmanteau “twunt,” which you should be clever enough to figure out), all of the typical romance film beats (finding love, getting separated, re-finding each other) are delivered with such energy and genuine interest. This is isn’t a filthy comedy that threw a romance in to “even things out.” Rather, this is an honest-to-god romance that just seems to come wrapped in a pretty degenerate casing: think There’s Something About Mary (1998) but with a much more likable lead.

Writer-director Pearlstein makes his feature-film debut here, although he already comes with a pretty decent notch on his filmmaking belt: his 2005 short film, Our Time is Up, was nominated for an Academy Award. Pearlstein is completely self-assured behind the camera, although the film has the occasional tendency (never overly so) to be a tad bit silly. With a little more focus on the sharper, more incisive aspects of his very funny script, Pearlstein would have had an unmitigated masterpiece (no hyperbole intended): as it stands, however, he’ll just have to be satisfied with one of the funniest, big-hearted and impressive comedies I’ve seen in quite some time. While I’ve been a fan of Labine’s for years, Someone Marry Barry was my first experience with Rob Pearlstein: after this, however, I’ve made sure to add him to my “Ones to Watch” list. I’m a guy who really likes to laugh and Pearlstein managed to hit all the right buttons: here’s to hoping this guy has a long, fruitful career ahead of him.